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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071186">principles of stellar connectivity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrents/pseuds/torrents'>torrents</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Community (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Camping, Character Study, Comfort in Companionship, Flashbacks, Found Family, Healing, Heavy Celestial References, Introspection, Light Pining, M/M, Self indulgence, and abed likes to talk to birds and the sky, rocky mountain national park!, shifting pov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,684</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071186</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrents/pseuds/torrents</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Abed has always been in love with outer space.</p><p>Or: the impromptu completion of the road trip trope, with the company of one Troy Barnes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>principles of stellar connectivity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for rosalie. this is a little late, but happy belated birthday, i hope you had a great day &lt;33 // huge thanks to my friend hannah, who helped me compile a classic road trip mix and was my number one through this whole conceptual process :)</p><p>TW // mention of panic attacks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Abed has always been in love with outer space. </p><p>It’s not just because of television and movies, though <em> Star Wars </em>helped a bit with that. Mainly, it's because of his mother.</p><p>As long as he could recall, she'd been huge on nature, the great outdoors. She’d gifted Abed a telescope for his sixth birthday and adjusted it against his bedroom window to see far beyond their little backyard. It wasn’t a cheap toy; the design was dark, sleek, and had an upper-grade silver logo emblazoned on the side.</p><p>“See,” she’d whisper into his ear at night, “there’s a whole world out there.” With careful hands, she’d turn the dials near the midsection, and let Abed see through the lens to see the moon, stars, comets if they were lucky. A whole universe, holding its breath and stilling itself for them to marvel, just the two of them. </p><p>“It doesn’t seem that far,” young Abed had remarked. Because through the small glass portal, it didn’t. But when he reached a hand forward to touch Venus, it didn’t fall through his fingertips as expected. He frowned. </p><p>“It doesn’t look it,” his mother agreed. “But it doesn’t have to be like that. Think hard enough, and maybe you can be an astronaut. You can imagine yourself out there, in space! Then, you can capture the planets and put them in your pockets.” Abed laughs at that because it seems absurd, and he feels her smile into his hair. He dreamt of the stars and placing Venus in a mason jar. </p><p>For years, the sky is theirs to hold fast. It shifts and bends, but Abed knows it’s out there. He finds solace in its presence, in its rain and wind, and the brighter beings above. It’s there on warm summer nights, where he and his mother laugh and chart constellations in a paper pad with smeared crayon. It’s there when he hears his father yell at him to focus on his studies and his mother sneaks chocolate chip cookies into Abed’s room afterward. And it’s there when his mother sends him a card telling him goodbye. </p><p>Directly following the Ian Duncan Holiday intervention, the study group was gathered around the TV, gradually drifting off one by one. Abed was at the foot of the sofa and extricated himself from Troy, who’d nestled into the crook of his neck, and went to stand by the window. </p><p>It was a clear night. Minimal cloud coverage with a crescent moon against the navy sky. </p><p>His mother was out there somewhere, watching the same moon. Studying the same little satellite on its left side, with her brand new family, telling them the same stories she’d told Abed of planets in pockets to soothe small children to sleep. </p><p>He pulls the curtains shut, returning to his spot on the floor. The carpet is darkened now as he steps over a sleeping Britta and situates himself against Troy again. </p><p>“Mm,” Troy mumbles, "it's late." Abed wraps an arm across Troy's waist and pulls him back into his chest. </p><p>He hears Troy say something else, maybe an <em>are you good?</em> that Abed answers with a reassuring squeeze to his hand. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he says softly. Troy is half asleep and can’t pick up on how his voice cracks at the end; a trace of hurt he'd normally catch immediately if fully awake. But just the same, he rests his head on Abed’s shoulder. The comforting weight of someone beside him lulls Abed to sleep.</p><p>He dreams of Saturn and a sky on fire. </p><p> </p><p>:: </p><p> </p><p>One time, Jeff had called Abed a god. There'd been awe loaded in the word, dripping off it in pounds, but Abed hadn't said anything in return. It was hard to scrounge up the words. To be worshipped, revered, even, is an honor. An honor much too great to be given to one Abed Nadir. </p><p>He doesn’t feel like a god, after all. He’s not invincible or omnipotent and he can’t bend reality to his will, as hard as he may try.</p><p>At the end of the day, he’s Just Abed.</p><p>Just Abed saves money for warm cardigans and DVD deluxe packs and collectible souvenir travel pins. Just Abed wishes for his mom and to be an astronaut who can leave the Earth behind.</p><p>And the only person who even comes close to getting Just Abed is Troy. </p><p>Abed wonders if that means something, and decides that it does. </p><p> </p><p>::</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Three months pass. It’s spring break now, and Abed proposes they go on a road trip, just him and Troy.</p><p>“Y’know, like a road trip special,” Abed says. “There’s always that one episode where the characters decide to take a spontaneous vacation to a seemingly insignificant location, where shenanigans ensue for the sake of being a filler.” </p><p>“Hmm. I don’t know, man, I’ve never been huge on bugs. My only exposure to the outdoors is limited to time in football fields and sneaking off to play basketball.” But Abed knows the bugs are a big factor. That’s understandable. </p><p>“We’ll have bug spray,” Abed reassures Troy, rubbing absent circles into his arm. “If we’re going, to be honest, I think the worst thing that’ll come is rain.” Troy still looks a little hesitant. There’s nothing wrong with sitting on the couch for a week straight with nothing but popcorn, special drink, and the TV occasionally static-ing. But, well, it's actually a pretty monotonous routine, once he really thinks about it. </p><p>And besides, Abed looks so <em>eager</em>, like the time he’d proposed the <em> Star Trek </em>movie marathon and pillow fort, both of which turned out to be excellent ideas, definitely for the books. Troy shrugs, and his lopsided smile slides into place. “If I become mosquito bait, it’s on you<em>. </em> But you know what, I'm down.” </p><p>Abed clicks his tongue, flipping two quick finger guns. “Cool! Cool, cool, cool.” He drags his laptop out of his backpack and flips it open, revealing a cluttered array of windows and tabs open to camping sites, printable maps, supply lists. “We’ll leave first thing Tuesday morning.” </p><p>“Sure,” Troy says, feeling something warm and soft stir in his chest. “Yeah, okay.” Cool. Wherever Abed wanted to go, he was more than willing to follow.</p><p>“We’ll need to leave early,” Abed mentions as an afterthought. “If we leave too late, it’ll get too hot. So at five a.m. We’ll need to be up by four.”  </p><p>Troy whistles. “Kind of early, don’t you think?” </p><p>“Yep. But it’s the only way to beat traffic, and I know that your car’s AC is in need of repairs, and the engine is pretty weak. Plus, you always need to take restroom breaks, coincidentally during traffic jams. This would decrease that.” </p><p>“You really took that all into consideration,” Troy says, awed.</p><p>“I’m doing it in the name of gas efficiency.” But then Abed shoots him a tiny smile as if to say, <em> it’s for you, actually, </em>and they do their handshake. </p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Troy says, looking up from a Colorado guide book, “what about Zion?” The sticky tabs Annie had given him suddenly had a purpose as he lifted up the book, small pastel dog flags peeping over several pages. </p><p>Abed tilts his head in consideration. “Hmm. That’s in Utah. I don’t know much about Utah aside from snippets in <em> Choke Canyon </em>and <em> The Hitchhiker. </em>” </p><p>“Unfamiliar terrain. Got it. What about Mesa Verde?” </p><p>“Too far, but I’m keeping it for a future trip. Thoughts on the Petrified Forest?” </p><p>“I don’t know, I feel sorta bad for those trees. They didn’t ask to be petrified.” </p><p>Abed thinks that Troy makes a good point there and turns back to his laptop, looking forlornly at the honey glazed tree stump photos. But then, he hears Troy slap his forehead and say, “Wait, wait. I know it’s close, but what about Rocky Mountain?”</p><p>Abed taps a finger against the kitchen counter. His mother had taken him there once in high school when his parents had gotten into a fight and she’d needed a break. She and Abed piled into the car and took the two-hour drive up to the park, where they only had a few gas stations worth of snacks to ration through a spontaneous sleepaway trip. </p><p>It’d been awesome, albeit bittersweet now to recall. He swallows down the acrid taste from the back of his mouth, and thinks:<em> it'll be different. </em></p><p>
  <em>It's with Troy. </em>
</p><p>“I haven't been in a while,” Abed says aloud. “I liked it. Let’s go.” </p><p> </p><p>:: </p><p> </p><p>Preparations take up all of Monday, morning through evening. </p><p>Abed loads up his old telescope into the trunk of the car, along with their impressive haul from Bass Pro Shop and Wal-Mart that includes but is not limited to: a new tent, two sleeping bags, a cooler, lamps, lawn chairs, an entire bag of mosquito spray, and an unholy amassment of s’ mores materials (credits there to Troy). </p><p>They wake up as planned on Tuesday, and Abed hands Troy can after can of coffee over the dashboard while he drives so he doesn’t nod off. The sun crests over the mountain line, and the moon ducks into the valley. Abed’s sad to see it go. </p><p>The day grows long and, as Abed predicted, increasingly warmer. Traffic is heavy, but it could be worse; the AC sputters, and Troy slams a fist against it to keep it running. Thick forest clusters crop up on their sides where buildings usually would be, and the sun is bright in their eyes. Gas station stops come and go, and he and Troy load up when they go inside, coming out with armfuls of chips and cheap keychains.</p><p>Annie asks them where they are when she's out of state, and they send her blurry pictures when they can - a bird (that Abed argues is a pigeon when Troy insists is a messed up crow), various traffic cones. An obligatory photo with their arms outstretched in a random field of grass. The road trip trope is a success thus far. </p><p>Denver falls behind them, and Troy’s put on a specially curated road trip playlist: lots of rock with <em>Journey, Queen, Styx</em>. A little <em>Kansas</em>, some <em>Electric Light Orchestra. </em></p><p>“Classic road trip mixtape,” Abed comments. “You have good taste.” </p><p>“It used to be our thing. My dad and I,” Troy clarifies with a shrug. His grip on the wheel tightens. “He was a guitarist, so he’d take out his guitar sometimes. Sing some songs with me.” </p><p>“Huh.” Abed relaxes his hand on the armrest. He hears a fragile note in Troy's voice when he talks about his dad, who largely isolated Troy after their mom left. Troy didn't like talking about it, so Abed doesn't ever ask. Instead, he says, “That's nice. Your playlist is reminiscent of the soundtrack for <em>Almost Famous.”  </em></p><p>Troy blinks. “The rock movie?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Abed takes the iPod from a creaking cup holder, flipping to the main playlist with the circular dial. Within moments of scrolling, he smiles. There’s a small click, and<em> Tiny Dancer’</em>s piano begins to play. Troy hums the familiar tune, fingers tapping the wheel on the beat. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Blue jean baby, L.A lady,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Seamstress for the band</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Abed recalls the plot of the movie well. “This is the song that played during that scene when the band was quarreling and then driving in silence until Tiny Dancer came on and they all started to sing in unison.” A good scene. Incredibly good, actually; Abed would be lying if he said it didn't make him believe in cinematic sentimentality or root for a favorite of his, the found family trope. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ballerina, you must’ve seen her </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dancing in the sand </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Troy’s grip is easing on the wheel; Abed is silently relieved and keeps going. </p><p>He says, “It’s that moment when they realized that family doesn’t have to be the people you were born with. Family is the people you can be yourself around.” Troy decides to glance at him then, and his face softens into something decidedly not Troy. He’s not sure if Abed is just talking about the movie anymore. Abed isn’t sure either. </p><p>The piano and strings grow muffled against the air conditioner. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Count the headlights on the highway </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I have to go home</em>,” Troy quotes. </p><p>Abed smiles. He knows the lines by heart. “<em>You are home,</em>” he responds.</p><p>And he knows that, yes, it’s just a movie quote from an old rock movie. But it teases a smile from Troy’s mouth that creases into his cheeks, and he's more encouraged to sing each song that comes up to follow.</p><p>There's a gentle staccato beat in Abed's chest, a flush in his neck, and he doesn't really know what to make of that.</p><p>The sky wheels overhead. Troy regals the clouds with <em> Evil Woman.</em></p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>PRE-ROAD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Abed doesn't know it, but once upon a time, Troy had been his dad's favorite person in the world. </p><p>Troy had been the football scout beloved, the champion of Riverside High. Troy had been the one who'd kept it together when his mom left, the good son who knew not to complain, no matter how much pain he was in, because complaining was for girls, and Troy was not a girl. The only times he ever went outside were for football games - to listen to the roars of high school bandstands, to stare into skylights on Friday nights - and play. And because he was told to do so, win. Every single time. </p><p>Troy was a star...the epitome of what being a boy was about. </p><p>His father had never been more proud. </p><p>"You're going to grow up to be a strong, successful man," Mr. Barnes had said, looking sternly down at his son. A newly earned football trophy was being gripped in his clenched fist. "I don't expect anything less." </p><p>"I will," Troy promised. "You'll see."</p><p>But then Troy had panic attacks from seeing scouts and pulled his keg flip, and the scouts disappeared, and his dad flipped out and somehow got remarried. Music nights between father and son disappeared, and in a flash, nothing even mattered. </p><p>Once upon a time, Troy Barnes had felt worthless and unloved until a tall boy from college Spanish asked him to join a study group. By the graces of some divine power, Abed had walked into his life, knelt down next to him, and helped him find himself. </p><p>Taking this all into consideration, then, he adds music from his childhood into his old iPod for their trip. Perhaps there is a crackling sadness attached to soft crooning lyrics and metallic guitar. Maybe it hurts to hear Styx and think about how his dad used to sing him to sleep with <em>Come Sail Away. </em></p><p>But Abed doesn't make him sad. </p><p>And good music shouldn't be forgotten. So in this sense, Troy makes to reinvent old memories with newer ones. Better ones. </p><p>Because for Troy, there are two chapters of his life: B.A followed by A.A. </p><p> </p><p><span class="u">B.A</span>: <em>Before Abed. </em></p><p><span class="u">A.A.</span>: <em>And After. </em></p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>ROAD</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Rocky Mountain National Park is just as beautiful as Abed remembers. After they pass through the entrance, Troy slows down to admire the snow trickling down mountainsides to clear glass lakes. </p><p>"But it's spring," he says, confused. </p><p>"Yeah," Abed says with an astute nod. He rubs his hands together gleefully. "That's the magic here."</p><p>They unload all of their supplies, taking special care with pitching up their tent in a more exposed part of the camping grove, where Abed double checks that he waterproofs it too. Then, he sprays himself down with a generous layer of bug spray and watches Troy do the same while piling two entire cans into his backpack, just in case.</p><p>"Wait," Troy says slowly before they shoulder their backpacks on. "What're you - ?"</p><p>Abed pauses. There's a bag of birdseed he's emptying into his hiking pants, and he only raises his brows once, twice, as if <em>Troy</em> is the weird one here. The last few pellets fall into his pants, and he zips up each pocket carefully. "In due time," Abed offers mysteriously, "you will understand." </p><p>Together, they hike past streams (stopping once to calm down Troy, who has a minor breakdown after seeing a snake), traversing through dirt trails, and taking pictures of the mountains with their cameras. </p><p>The memories from only years before drift back in chunks and Abed takes quiet joy in the simple things he'd missed so much: the evergreens, the smell of clean air. The blueness of the sky, and listening to the grass rustle and side-stepping around large rocks. </p><p><em>It's a slice of what used to be, </em>his mother had said. <em>All the world's a stage, and places like this park used to be the main shows. </em></p><p>For whatever reason, birds are <em>everywhere,</em> much to Abed's delight. Troy seems especially impressed by Abed's ability to identify a variety of calls and greets a small sparrow that flits down to the trail. There's a mockingbird family that comes up through a ditch, an osprey that shrieks and pitches itself down near the woods' threshold. </p><p>"Here," Abed says, "I want to show you something." They pause in the middle of a lake area, where there are boulders cloistered around a glistening water pool where four ducks are swimming. There's a beat of silence. Abed lowers himself to the dirt near the water's edge, gesturing for Troy to squat with him. </p><p>Abed shifts his legs to be more comfortable and sets his backpack down. And then, with zero warning, he imitates a duck call perfectly, catching the birds' attention. They stare at him, unblinking; then they begin to paddle closer to the shallows. </p><p>"Oh my <em>god</em>." Troy. </p><p>"Shhh, quiet. They're coming closer." Abed. </p><p>He continues with his duck call and the leading duck, a male wood duck with a beautiful green crown, approaches Abed with wobbling feet. </p><p>Abed holds up a hand, and then fishes a handful of birdseed from his pockets, throwing it into the grass. Troy placed his head on his forehead as the ducks all swarm towards the grass, muttering to themselves happily in quack. They peck greedily at the pellets, and Abed hums as he zips up his pants pockets. </p><p><em>"Oh my god," </em> Troy enthuses again, voice pitching higher and higher, and Abed holds onto his shoulder to keep from falling over laughing. </p><p>It'd been far too long since Abed had felt so content. Once he chucks a few more handfuls of seed, they wave a farewell to the wood ducks, continuing onto the beaten trail. </p><p>He looks back sometimes to see Troy on his heels, staring up at the sky like it’s a revelation. An answer, maybe, to how he’d thought of the world before.</p><p>"You like what you see?" </p><p>"Well, yeah," Troy answers, shoes crunching on dry twigs. There's still an unreadable look on his face, like the one he'd worn in the car. "I can't believe we haven't done this before." </p><p>Abed shifts his backpack straps. "It's a good trope. The buddy trip into the uncharted wilderness is always a winner." </p><p>The air grows cool as evening settles in, and Abed keeps on waiting for him to say something. He knows Troy Barnes isn’t the most poetic man in the world, but there’s something here, in the midst of trees, moon, and prairie grass that’s made his eyes brighter. But all Troy says when they get back to the campsite is, “The sky is really blue here.” </p><p>Navy blue stitches itself into the horizon. Abed nods. </p><p>“Yeah,” he agrees. Troy’s hand brushes his, and that staccato heartbeat is back. “It really is.” </p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>Dusk was full of both of them complaining their fair deal about being sore, laughing hysterically at a pair of squabbling squirrels, and tossing marshmallows into each other's mouths. But when the last of any cloud wisps cleared, the night sky was open, and Abed had one last thing to fulfill.</p><p>After rinsing his hands, Abed took the telescope from the car trunk and out of its box, adjusting it with expert ease in a clearing away from the trees. </p><p>“It's a rare opportunity to look at the stars like this,” Abed tells Troy. “You never get to see the sky like this in Greendale.” </p><p>"It's a cliche thing to do. I like it, though, cause looking up, it looks a lot like those little kid art projects. Like when kids spill salt across those kindergarten paintings." So many stars, it was honestly a tad dizzying. </p><p>"I remember those," Abed says. "I was never an artist by any means, but I know what you're talking about." He smiles softly, and Troy returns it, comfortable sitting in the grass beside him. The sky is exceptionally clear, and the universe has laid itself out for them, unrolling itself before them at their disposal. </p><p>Abed had picked up a small flashlight from the gas stop (and brought his own red tissue paper to place over the lens) and shines it on star guide he'd picked up. </p><p>"It's the spring season," Abed says thoughtfully, tapping the sheet. "So that means this season is prime viewing for Saturn, Mars, and Venus."</p><p>"Saturn," Troy repeats in disbelief. "That's one of the farthest planets." Just before Uranus (obligatory laugh track), Neptune (cool name). Just barely on the brink, more than halfway through their solar system. "<em>Dude</em>, that's wrinkling my brain." </p><p>Abed hums his assent, and Troy thinks he might be smiling. "It's weird. My mom and I used to go to these parks all the time. It makes you see, in a strange movie trope sort of way, just how small we are." </p><p>Quietly, Abed sets down the map and flashlight onto the hood. Then, he lowered himself to the telescope, where he looped the black dials with trained ease. </p><p>“I always wanted to share this with somebody,” he continues. “I love cinema, and nature is reminiscent of it in some ways. It’s this huge untapped natural canvas, with its own systems and chains and potential for change. There’s a rhythm to it, with its seasons, patterns in its biological cycle that repeat themselves like tropes. It’s…” Abed’s fingers falter. The telescope tilts slightly, and he quickly steadies it. “Like one of those documentaries on Animal Planet. Or even Planet Earth. It’s really nice to have you here with me, Troy.” </p><p>“Oh.” Troy swallows, and his hand catches on the blanket. “Of course, Abed.” Their small fire is starting to die, and their shadows are growing longer. It’s like one of those coming of age films that Abed loves so much. The soft lighting, the right dialogue. The perfect atmosphere. Stars in the sky.</p><p>He casts Abed a small smile. </p><p>Final wisps of reddish smoke blow between them. He sees Abed smiles back. </p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>The telescope proves its worth once more and reminds Troy and Abed both that the planets are, in fact, Out There.</p><p>They chart Virgo and Leo, catching sight of Böötes while pretending to be astronomers on a mission to save the galaxy. </p><p>Troy tells Houston that he doesn't need any help, actually, because he has world-famous astrophysicist, Dr. Abed Nadir, by his side, and he's more than capable of saving the day. For some reason, that makes Abed smile. </p><p>They return to their tent later when the sky was hazed with strings of pink and purple, and push their sleeping bags side by side. The lantern at the foot of their tent opening blinks orange-gold as Troy reaches for someone's hand in the intermittent dark. </p><p>Abed takes it without hesitation. He gives in a reassuring squeeze. </p><p>An owl hoots in the trees clustered around them and Troy has the courage to speak. </p><p>"You know what, Abed?" </p><p>"What?" </p><p>"I'm really, " and he pauses. Abed's thumb is running across his knuckles with ease, and he lets his eyes drift shut. "I'm really glad you took me out here." </p><p>"...Really?" </p><p>"Yeah." Troy burrows himself more into his sleeping bag, where the side isn't zipped. "You know, all my life, I haven't gotten a chance to just relax. If I ever went outside, it was to practice for a game or go and do door to door sales for sports sponsor coupons. My dad would never get off my case about that stuff. I think this is the first time I really went somewhere outside of my house just to have fun." </p><p>"And hear a ridiculously spot on duck call."</p><p>"You must've sold your soul for it to sound so good." Abed chuckles at that, and Troy smiles to himself in the dark; Abed's hand over his is soothing, loosening his tongue. The rest of his words come out in a rush. "I'm just really grateful for a chance to enjoy myself and forget that I'm more than just what my dad wanted. It's stupid, I know, because I'm, like, in college now, so why am I even <em>worrying </em>about what he thinks of me, since it's j - " </p><p>" - no," Abed cuts in quietly. "It's not stupid. I get it." </p><p>The owl hoots again. Troy can't see Abed's face, but he can already imagine it: eyes lowered to the tent ground, thinking hard in that calculating way he always did. </p><p>"It's a common developmental trope you and I both are undergoing right now. A metamorphosis, an evolution. We're trying to gain freedom from the memories caused by our now estranged parents. So far, it's me with my mom, you with your dad, and it hasn't been easy." </p><p>"No." Troy's voice is barely a whisper. "It hasn't been." </p><p>"I know," Abed affirms. "It's okay. You can talk to me. I get it, I do." He sighs and shifts closer to Troy. </p><p>"You believe me, don't you?" </p><p>Troy huffs out a laugh because it's <em>Abed</em> he's talking to. Abed asking for confirmation, when it's almost always been there. "Of course I do." </p><p>Abed, who makes life a lot brighter and concisely explained. Abed, who makes things better than they really are, who does strange duck calls and keeps birdseed in his pockets, and likes Troy for simply being Troy. </p><p>"It's easier with you," Troy admits. "Talking to you about it all, it makes it less scary." </p><p>Sleep is dragging his eyes shut, and he finds it more and more exhausting to speak. But Troy’s just awake enough to feel Abed easing his palm open with hesitant fingers and gently entwining their hands together. There's nothing left said; the message is clear. </p><p>
  <em>I'm glad you're comfortable with me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I'm comfortable with you, too. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>Sometime in the night, Abed mumbles something about stars, Troy, and closure.</p><p>The next day comes, with the sun rising over a clear spring day. They do it all over again. </p><p> </p><p>::</p><p> </p><p>Someone once told Abed that the future is written in the stars. There are years mapped out across the sky, held fast within orbiting bodies, charting the past, present, and beyond. A divine force out there, writing out a destiny for him in celestial flame. </p><p>It might be from a movie. Maybe one of those cosmic themed television specials or one of Britta’s astrology tabloids. For once, Abed isn’t sure. But he thinks it’s interesting that for whatever he does, with his exercised free will, there’s an endgame written. At least, a relative endgame. A finish line to strive for, and millions of different timelines. </p><p>The sky raises itself on its haunches and waits for the day that deities from above guide people to their rightful destinies. </p><p>Abed doesn’t wait for a guide to find it. </p><p>He does his own thing, just like he always has. And that’s more than enough, for him and Troy Barnes. </p><p>Troy’s got a destiny, too. One that might take him far away, far from even Abed, from the safety of Greendale. If he's taken or decides to leave by his own terms is unclear. Abed doesn't like to think about it.</p><p>For now, they’re eating s’mores, shoulder to shoulder, and the air smells like clean rain and melted chocolate. And to Abed, this seems to be enough. More than, even. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tiny dancer "almost famous" reference clip from the road scene: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHH3FoJUEbg">right here</a><br/>hannah's playlist that inspired troy's: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/17poTJudsDfnRqq9ftyoJc?si=-zKSA2JNScKD_rm4L8l8Mw">here!</a></p><p>hello hello! i started classes and got really overwhelmed recently, so this was delayed for a little while. the road trip trope in movies is a personal favorite of mine, and i was feeling nostalgic so (hands u this) here is Where We Are Now. i hope you enjoyed, i’m active on twitter @fromgatsby if u would like to yell with or at me! kudos and/or comment if you want to, have a lovely day</p></blockquote></div></div>
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